You're close to breakdown. It's growing ever-later, and the light's half out for you. The urge to create is strong, but the knot in your stomach won't come undone. It's all old and useless anyway. You're wracked, and racked for that matter—pulled apart in your own mind. You're alone again.

And that's when they come. They say—if you're worthy—one of them will come for you, and drag you tentatively through the bushes.

You'll be surrounded. Surrounded by the glow of the bulb and people. People a little bit just like you. All a little bit frayed just like you.

The glow of the bulb is a protective measure, a bit like tinnitus. You'll hate it at first. You'll stay mute under its hum at first. But then, when it all comes into place—you'll get it. You'll wonder where you were without it.

I can't guarantee the anxiety will go down or the pain in your head will wear off, but at least you'll understand why, and so will those around you.

Obsolescence stops mattering. Time will mean nothing.


mari capy dcb cheren neo